


Ties

by HeleneBuff



Category: Billary - Fandom, Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeleneBuff/pseuds/HeleneBuff
Summary: In 1985, it is the aftermath of an election and it is not a bright one.Trying to cope with the outcome is already hard enough but as it is, the hardships might only just get started...





	1. Hazy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first attempt at Billary fanfiction and it took me a while to even get this account. Now I'm the proud owner of a brand new AO3-account and am very excited of the possibilities it holds. :D 
> 
> This is a major AU (well actually, it’s more like OU because it is my own universe and my own timeline that I’m creating).  
> I’m very sorry if that’s not really your thang but I needed it to have quite a bit of a different timeline both because I wanted Hillary to be younger and also because I wanted to set it in a different „feeling“, time-wise (you know, “Stranger Things” and stuff…).  
> It’s really experimental because I’m kinda merging our time and the 80s but alas, I’m not doing this professionally and English isn’t even my mother-tongue (critics welcome) so what do I have to lose, right? I’m doing this for everybody’s pleasure, including my own.  
> I’m very much looking forward to seeing where this is actually going because so far I only have splinters of ideas that I want to realise but all the rest just has to come in on the go.  
> If you have ideas/ wishes/ comments/… please let me know! :)  
> Also for political reasons I would like to say that I'm not an American citizen and while I love Hillary really, really much (obviously, why else would I delve so deep into the crazy and write fanfiction about her, right?) I am not necessarily the biggest fan of all of her political opinions and I also don't enjoy demonising Trump like that. I do it here because I need a clearly discernable villain but outside of the fiction I'm more into taking everybody's point of view seriously.  
> Okay, now that basically everything is said, I would like to invite you to this fictious world to enjoy! :)

**Ties**

_Washington D.C., The White House, 9th of November 1985, 10:04 am_

Drizzling rain was filling the air with a chilly mist, crawling into every little crack and making those unfortunate enough having to set foot outside shiver uncomfortably as it coldly grasped their very bones with its long icy fingers. This gray weather had set in a few days ago but she felt it had been getting significantly colder over night.

A woman in her late thirties sat at the kitchen table in the White House, watching the raindrops slither down outside the window, leaving swerving trails on the glass.  
She looked outside over the rim of her white tea cup into this gray, uncaring mist.  
Her blonde hair had meanwhile grown out well over her shoulder and lay exhausted and slightly greasy on her back. Her deep blue eyes looked dull and red-rimmed, noticeable dark circles had built up underneath them.  
She didn’t wear any make up, why would she now?

Letting out a defeated sigh that blew away the steam rippling up from the tea cup, she recalled all too well his wide victorious grin.  
For the past 12 months she had been traveling up and down the country, campaigning for her presidency, the first woman ever who hoped to be elected into this very house she was currently sitting in.  
Her husband often in tow, sometimes accompanied by their five year old daughter.  
Her little girl was very shy when facing those big crowds of cheering people that her mother used to speak to. But at her daddy’s hand she felt a little more confident and occasionally even said a word or two into the microphone.  
She smiled one of her few genuine smiles at the heart-warming thought of her daughter.

Now that was all a thing of the past. Granted, she had been looking forward to the end of her extremely exhausting campaigning tour but she had kind of wished it would be because she was now the new President of the United States of America.  
Which she wasn’t.  
Donald Trump was. Yet again recalling his wide grin gave her a nauseating feeling in the stomach.  
She had fought so hard, given it all her heart and her strength, withstood all the nasty attacks thrown at her by her adversary.  
He had reached so low, questioning not only her integrity as a politician but first and foremost her qualities as a woman, as a wife and - most terribly - as a mother. That last one stung her particularly hard.

During those past 8 years Hillary Clinton had been many things - trusted wife to her husband Bill Clinton, the resigning President of the United States; fiery activist for women’s, children’s, family and health issues; author of several draft proposals and a book of her own.  
But also she had become a mom and she was now more motivated than ever to move heaven and earth for children like her daughter Chelsea to grow up looking into a brighter future.  
Now that had become a thing of the past too as everybody henceforth was facing a future of insecurities, intolerance, witch hunts, deportations, denial of the aggravating climate change, misogyny and fear.  
No, that was certainly not what she was fighting for and would continue to as soon as she had figured out a way to pick herself up after this.

They hadn’t told Chelsea yet.  
When they had put her to bed late last night, it had still looked good for Hillary to win the first states. They hadn’t really found a good way of telling their daughter what was up for them now.  
She didn’t actually know that herself, all she knew was the threat her opponent had pronounced, that he would find a way to prosecute her for the various allegations held against her, once he was president. That was a serious issue since he was very much looking to destroy her on a personal level and didn’t care one bit about her or her family.  
Accusations flew wild against her husband as well and only God knew what Donald Trump was capable of doing, once he got the power all in his tiny hands.  
The transition would probably still go well but once they had packed up their belongings, tucked their cat under their arm and moved out of the White House, things would certainly be starting to change.

And yet again she felt powerless. She let out another hearty sigh.  
But she still had to deliver her concession speech this evening and that wouldn’t be an easy task so she better pulled herself together and prepared for this.

Bill and her hadn’t gotten much sleep, they had stayed up until long after the results were made official, tangled up in each other’s limbs, staring at the TV blankly and in shock. They had gotten pretty drunk and as an act of consolation (and for lack of any better idea) they, with tear-stained faces, had made love quite intensely until finally succumbing to sleep.

Now she desperately needed a shower but couldn’t yet bring herself to care enough about how bad she smelled to pull herself up and get clean. She was fine with all the stench and all the dirt on her. She felt putrid and dirty and hollow.  
But she would keep a straight face and for her daughter continue fighting, continue hoping, continue showering. If she had learnt one thing from her mother and from her own life then it was that it will go on.  
Life will go on, no matter the circumstances.

She sipped on her rooibos tea and slowly emptied the cup, the warm liquid gliding softly into her ice cold body, reviving herself a little.  
With one last glance at the foggy lawn outside she got up and slowly walked back upstairs to the bathroom that adjoined to their bedroom where Bill was most likely just slowly waking up to this new reality.


	2. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Thank you so much for your Kudos. I'm happy that you seem to like it. Now here comes the new chapter, it'll be building up now slowly.  
> But this I just needed to include, I wanted us all to get some kind of a feeling for what it is like among our favourite people in the White House. :)  
> Enjoy and please leave ideas/ critics/ comments, that always helps!

When she entered the bedroom, Bill wasn't there.  
She went to their bed and sat down on his side. Placing her hand on the amber bedsheet she felt that it was still warm, he must've gotten up only a few minutes ago.  
The door to the adjacent bathroom was open but the lights were out, no one inside. She had a small moment of real calmness and sighed, listening to her own breath.  
She absentmindedly caressed the bedsheet for a moment until she heard a muffled but still loud enough “NOOO, MOMMYYY...NO FAIR!” and she knew he had spoken to Chelsea. She rose from the bed with a remorseful feeling in her stomach and went to her daughter's room to talk to her and try to comfort her little child which she had so badly disappointed.  
She was glad Bill had spoken to her first though.  
Chelsea really was daddy's girl and they shared a bond which she sometimes envied a little and tried to achieve herself.  
Bill was better at telling her those news, she would've been a little too stiff to provide the warmth her daughter needed, her discomfort showing obviously. Plus it was her fault so she didn't really know how to deal with the guilt. 

When she softly pushed open the door to Chelsea's room, Bill was sitting there on the edge of her bed, clad in his gray bathrobe into which their daughter had dug her little fingers, tugging at it furiously.  
He softly stroked her head with his long, gentle fingers, looking at her small face, tears streaming and cheeks red with anger.  
“HE CAN'T COME INTO OUR HOUSE, TELL HIM THAT HE CAN'T BE HERE, I WON'T LEAVE, MY MOMMY'S NOW PRESIDENT NOT HIM, NO FAIR!” She yelled at her father, ripping even harder on the fabric.  
They only noticed her mother when she quietly sat down on the bed behind her daughter. It broke her heart in a thousand pieces to see her child so distraught, not being able to give her the bright and secure future she so much deserved.  
She looked at Bill for a short moment, their eyes locking, each reflecting the pain and the helplessness of the other.  
She gently put her hand on her daughter's back, at which Chelsea let go of her father and flipped her head to look at her mother, her locks swirling through the air.  
For a short moment nobody said anything, mother and daughter looking at each other motionless. Then Chelsea flailed her arms around her mother and buried her face deep into her chest. Hillary put her arms around her and held her tight, stroking her back and breathing into her hair.  
Muffled sobs were all that was heard for a while and Bill softly rested one hand on Chelsea's back.  
“Mommy you're my real president and I will never do what this dumbass says, I will not let him into our house, no!”, she pressed out between her sobs.  
Hillary gently stroked her hair at which her daughter looked up at her face with big, red eyes. “Honey I know you're upset, we're all very sad today but I told you not to use those words in our presence, is that understood?” Chelsea nodded weekly and gruffly wiped away her tears with her little hand. “I'm s-horry, Mo-hmmy.”, she said.  
Hillary lovingly looked at her and cupped her cheek with her right hand. “It's alright. But you know us, when they go lower, we go higher. Mommy will do what the law says and so we will have to go back to Arkansas. But you know what, we'll redecorate your room and you can have all the glowing stars and moons you want there, we'll put them all over your room. And Socks, you know Socks will come with us back there and he can have my dressing room, we will make a whole room just for Socks and you to play in, won't that be great?”, she said with as much optimism and glee as she could muster up. Her daughter wasn't satisfied.  
“But Socks can play in my room here, I will make room for his basket over there in the corner, I like my room here. Please mommy, please don't make us leave, I'll always tidy up my room, I promise! Please, I'm sorry I didn't tidy up all the time when you said I should, I'm so sorry I was messy, PLEASE DON'T MAKE US LEAVE!!!”, she started crying again, heart-wrenching sobs leaving her throat, grabbing onto her mother for dear life.  
Tears were building up in Hillary's eyes as well but she made sure they wouldn't spill. Bill now pulled both of them in a tight embrace, his own eyes noticeably wet.  
“Hey...”, he said in a low, soft and calming voice, “we'll be just fine in Arkansas and you still have plenty of time to play here with Socks. We can stay here for about two more months and we'll make sure we won't leave anything behind for that big old potato sack. He won't ever have it half as nice as we had it here, he won't get those drawings on the fridge, too.” Chelsea looked up at her father attentively. He insistently shook his head and smiled at his daughter “Nope, he won't have them. I'll make sure. He won't have your drawings, he won't see how we played with Socks or all the special Easter eggs you drew. Not any of that and we'll take the Christmas ornaments, too. He'll have the most boring old Christmas tree next year and no one will help him decorate.” His daughter began to smile. He kissed her hair  
“And also no one will help him un-decorate the tree either because we're taking Socks with us and no one else has his training.” Now Chelsea giggled and Hillary let out a small chuckle, too.  
They had a pretty rough time ahead of themselves, there was no doubting that.  
She would give everything to make her daughter happy again and sure as hell she was going to do anything in her power to make things better.  
But as long as they were together, nothing could harm them, nothing could bring them down.  
Only she didn't know yet, just to which test they all were going to be put...


End file.
